


Support System

by CaptAcorn



Series: Home [8]
Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Angst, Family Drama, Multi, Siblings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-30
Updated: 2017-11-30
Packaged: 2019-02-08 19:42:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12871638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptAcorn/pseuds/CaptAcorn
Summary: Story eight from the Home series! Miral Paris knows exactly how each person in her family ticks -- she's the one that can always make her father laugh, distract her mother from her bad mood, get her intensely private brother to open up. But sometimes she needs someone to rely on, too.





	Support System

**Author's Note:**

> Please see acknowledgements for this series under the first story, Fresh Start.

Lieutenant Commander Miral Paris paced around the Embarkation Lounge of Starbase Twelve, her heels clicking against the metallic decking.

"Their arrival will not be hastened by you wearing out the deck plating," Shovar remarked, not looking up from the PADD in his hand.

"Their ship should have been here almost fifteen minutes ago," she said, throwing herself into the empty seat next to her fiancé. "Besides, I'm excited to see them. I haven't seen Mom and Dad in months and it's been over a year since Joe and I were last together. Aren't you excited to see  _your_  family? You haven't been back to Qo'noS in years."

"My family considers me an oddity. Living amongst humans has not helped. I love them, but when I visit sometimes it feels like I'm on exhibit at a zoo." Shovar looked up from his PADD. "But  _you_  shouldn't be concerned. I'm sure they will be very taken with you."

Miral stared at the arrivals board, which stubbornly refused to change the status of her family's flight from Earth. Her leg started to bounce. "I'm not concerned. Why should I be concerned? I've been to Qo'nos a bunch of times — Klingons love me. Plus, my accent is getting a lot better."

"True." Shovar nodded and went back to his reading. "I can nearly always understand you now." He grinned when she punched him in the shoulder. "You're right, of course. My family  _will_  love you. You're more of a warrior than I am, after all. In fact, rather than have you marry into the family, my parents may ask you to take my place."

She punched him again, but much more gently and with a peck on the cheek as accompaniment. "You're the only Klingon family I need." Glancing at his PADD, she bit her lip. "Have you heard anything? Did the transfer to the  _Starzl_  go OK?"

A kind smile crossed Shovar's dark brown features. Many of their fellow shipmates didn't see it — didn't bother to look past the ridges or the height or his default grimace — but Shovar's empathy and compassion was what first drew Miral to the Klingon doctor. He squeezed her hand. "The transfer went well. Lieutenant Nakano's condition continues to be stable."

She pulled her hand from his and ran it through her hair. "We should have canceled this trip. You should be taking care of her — you know her history, have been treating her since the beginning. We don't even know these other doctors—"

"I do," Shovar corrected her. "And they will take excellent care of her, Miral. Even if we had canceled, Ana would have to be transferred at some point for rehabilitation. I don't have the right resources on the  _Lozen_  for what she needs." He took her hand again. "And you need some time away. This trip will be good for you."

She squeezed his hand in return. "Is that your opinion as my CMO or my mate?"

"Both."

They held each other's eyes for a moment before Shovar smiled again and reactivated the PADD in his hand. "Ugh," Miral said as she jumped up from her seat and returned to her pacing. "When is that damn ship getting here?"

Fifteen minutes later and nearly thirty minutes late, the ship from Earth arrived. Miral stood on her tiptoes, trying to see over the heads of the disembarking passengers and spot her family. She cursed her short stature and considered shoving her way to the front of the crowd until good sense and manners won out.  _Calm the hell down, Commander. You'll see them in a few minutes._

Miral heard her parents before she saw them.

"Are you ever going to let this go?"

"Ever? You told me this morning, Tom!"

"It's what we agreed to!"

"It's what  _you wanted_. I said we could discuss it more, not that you should be making unilateral decisions for  _our_ business!"

"Oh, that's rich, coming from you."

Unable to wait another moment, Miral pushed her way against the flow of traffic and found her parents just by the entrance to the lounge, glaring at each other. "Mom? Dad?"

Dad's face immediately went from sour to bright when he spotted her. "Hey, kitten! We missed you," he said as he threw his arms around her in a crushing hug.

His hairline had come noticeably forward (Mom must have finally talked him into the follicle stimulator) and he'd lost weight. He must be on a health kick again. But maybe he was too thin, now. Was everything OK? Miral pushed her (probably) needless worries aside and kissed his cheek. "Hi, Daddy."

Mom's hug was typically brief, but she let a hand linger on Miral's cheek as she smiled at her daughter. "I like your hair," B'Elanna said. "I've always liked it short."

"You and Shovar can battle it out then," she replied with a grin. "He wants me to grow it long again. But where's Joe?" she asked, looking amongst the last few stragglers disembarking. "He came right? You'd have told me if he missed the ship?"

Her father rolled his eyes. "Oh, he came. Not that you'd know it. We've barely seen him the whole trip. He's had his nose buried in some book or another."

"He's writing his dissertation, Tom," her mother snapped. "Not reading comic books. He has better things to do besides entertaining his needy father."

Miral chewed on her lip as they sniped at each other. They were fighting? Now? The first time in ages that their whole family would be in the same place?

"Hey, Shrimp."

Miral's face broke into a grin again at the site of her little brother, dirty blond hair falling in his face as always. She had to look up to meet his eyes — Joe had passed her in height by the time he was thirteen and hadn't stopped growing until he was almost as tall as Shovar. "Turdbucket!"

She was still hugging her brother when her fiancé approached, his expression uneasy. Despite having met her parents once before and having spoken with Joe on the comm, he was still unsure of how to act around her family. "Sorry, Shovar," she said as she broke free of Joe. "Come here. Say hi to everyone."

"Mr. Paris. Ms. Torres." Shovar nodded at Tom and B'Elanna in turn. "And Joseph Owen Paris. It is an honor to meet you in person." He frowned apologetically at Miral. "I have just been contacted by the  _Starzl_. Lieutenant Nakano's condition has unexpectedly deteriorated and I must consult with Doctor Gomes. It may take some time. My apologies to you all, but I must excuse myself."

"Of course," Miral said, forcing her face to stay neutral as her stomach fell towards the floor. "Do whatever you need to."

"I should still be able to meet you for dinner. Try not to worry," he said with brief smile. He stared at her awkwardly for a beat. On the  _Lozen_ , they were careful to avoid any hint of physical affection towards each other while on duty — a habit it had taken Shovar some time to learn, as Klingons were not known for withholding any sort of emotion, positive or negative. The end result was now he sometimes overcompensated, not even coming within a meter of her if there were others around.

Miral solved the issue by pulling him down for a quick peck on the lips. "We'll see you later."

"Miral," B'Elanna said once Shovar took his leave. "I need to send an urgent message myself. Is the ship we're taking to Qo'noS letting passengers board yet?"

Miral noted her father's piqued expression before she answered. "Yeah, Shovar and I have already got our stuff on board. It's at Docking Port Seven. Is something wrong?"

"Nothing I can't fix," her mother said with a vicious look at her husband. She picked up her satchel and stalked towards the lounge exit.

"B'Elanna!" Dad called, jogging to catch up with her. "Just let it go! We'll look like idiots if you call them now!"

"Whose fault is that?" was the last thing Miral heard before her parents disappeared from view.

"What's wrong with them?" she asked, turning to her brother.

Joe shrugged as he dug through his bag. "It's a work thing. They can't agree on what to do with the firm."

Dad was ready to take a step back, stop taking on so many projects, ease their way towards retirement. Not surprisingly, Mom disagreed. Things had come to a head this morning over breakfast when Dad revealed he'd withdrawn them from the running for a contract from the Bajoran government that Mom had been vying for.

"Dad never wanted to go up for it," Joe said. "But Mom put in a bid without telling him. So they've been pissed at each other for weeks."

Miral sank into one of the hard chairs of the now empty lounge. "Why do they fight so much now? It was never like this when we were kids." She looked up at Joe. "You're on the same planet as them. Is everything OK? I mean, with their marriage?

"Miri," Joe said, his eyebrows raised. "Mom and Dad fight all the time. They always have. It's how they communicate. Sure, when we were little they tried to keep it away from us, but…" He suddenly smiled and patted her on the head. "You know what? Never mind. I wouldn't worry about it. They'll be able to put on a good face for the Klingons. Everything'll be fine."

She slapped his hand away and stood, glaring at him. "Never mind what? What's going on?"

"Nothing," Joe said, backing away. "I should really get to the ship. I have a lot of writing to do. Docking Port Seven, you said?"

"Oh no," Miral menaced as she advanced on him. "I don't care how tall you are — you still can't fight for shit. Tell me what you meant!"

Joe relented with a drop of his shoulders. "It's nothing, really. Everything's fine. I just don't want you to worry. You have a tendency to... overreact."

"Overreact! What the fuck are you talking about?"

Her brother rolled his eyes. "Well, this for one. C'mon, Miri, you know what I mean — I don't return your call for two days, I must be mad at you. Dad gets a headache, he's dying. He and Mom are fighting, they're getting divorced. Even the hint of a problem, and you freak out. It can be a little exhausting."

"Exhausting," she growled. "I can't believe you people. I'm not a teenager anymore and I am  _not_  'freaking out.' I head security on one of the biggest ships in the 'Fleet. I made tactical chief faster than anyone in history. A year ago, I faced down the Rhozians when we were outnumbered five ships to one. And you don't think I can handle our parents having an argument?"

Joe never resembled their father so much as when he was terrified of her. "No. You're right. I'm wrong. Very wrong. Your reactions are totally appropriate always." He started to edge his way towards the station's central thoroughfare. "You know, I have a ton of work to do on my thesis. Deadlines wait for no one! So I'm just going to, uh, board our ship, and work… and board… See you at dinner!"

Miral sighed in frustration as her one remaining family member fled the lounge.  _Oh no, Miral, you never overreact. That's not you at all._  This was not the happy family reunion she'd envisioned. It was supposed to be a fun vacation for them — going to Qo'noS together, getting to know Shovar, the families meeting each other. Instead, her parents were snapping at each other, she'd scared her brother off, and all she could think of was Ana — lying on a biobed, her condition 'deteriorating,' whatever that meant, and all because…

 _No._  Shovar was right. She needed a break. She needed to get her mind off what had happened. Captain Charles, Commander Gerges — they'd both told her she'd done everything right, that there had been no good choices and she'd taken the least bad of the ones available. And Shovar said Ana was in good hands. She had to trust that, and him.

Miral took a deep breath, put her hands on her hips, and marched out of the lounge. She couldn't do anything about Ana, but she could certainly do something about her family. They were not going to waste their precious two weeks together on work and petty squabbles. That was part of her job description, right? Negotiating with warring parties, averting and diffusing conflict whenever possible. And when speaking softly didn't work, she was more than capable of breaking out the big stick. She was going to make her family see that they needed to get over themselves and enjoy their time together — even if she had to round them all up with her  _bat'leth_  to do it.

/=\

"Where did this idiot learn how to fly?" Dad grumbled as his soup slopped over the side of his bowl.

"You hit it with your arm, Tom," Mom retorted. "You can't blame your being a slob on the pilot."

Miral put a hand to her temple. The situation had not improved. Mom had gotten through to the Bajorans and claimed there was a mixup by "an incompetent employee with whom we have since parted ways," and their bid was back under consideration. Dad had been in a sulk ever since. Miral had hoped dinner might turn things around — she'd booked them passage on a Risian pleasure cruiser with all the amenities, including expansive gardens, state-of-the-art holodecks, and restaurants with actual prepared food versus replicated. It was all right up her father's alley.

But Dad seemed committed to his foul mood, and her mother's self-satisfied attitude was not helping. Meanwhile, Joe had not only brought his PADD to dinner, but two actual hardcover (and smelly) antique books had their own place at the circular table; Shovar still hadn't joined them. He had decided to supervise Ana's surgery over subspace, as it was a procedure he'd developed during his fellowship.

"Dad," Miral ventured. "I booked us some private holodeck time for 2100. You can choose the program, if you want."

Tom smiled at her as he squeezed her hand. "I'm sorry, kitten. You're right. We're here for you and meeting your soon-to-be in-laws, not complaining about work. We should be enjoying our time together and this gorgeous ship." He gave his wife a sidelong glance. "Besides, if we get that contract, I won't have time to enjoy much of anything for the next two years."

"Will you give it a rest, Tom?" B'Elanna snapped back. "I'm the one who does most of the work anyway. All you do is—"

"My apologies, Torres-Paris family!" Shovar boomed as he threw open the door of the small dining room Miral had reserved. "I had not intended to abandon you for so long. But I am now fully at your disposal."

Miral held her breath as Shovar took his place to her right. "Ana's surgery went OK?" she asked, her voice hopeful. Her fiancé was never so Klingon as when one of his patients was in recovery. ("I've tried many times to explain to my parents how medicine is just another type of battlefield, with disease and injury as your foes," he'd told her when they first started dating. "But they don't get it.")

"Yes, and she's doing well," he assured her. "I admit, I would have preferred to perform the surgery myself. But Dr. Gomes performed admirably in my absence. Now we must drink in victory!"

Shovar's celebratory mood was infectious. ( _Thank God for that,_ Miral thought as she gave her fiancé's thigh a grateful squeeze.) Dad had the waiter bring bloodwine and everyone toasted Miral, Shovar, and the newly convalescent Ana. Even Joe took a few sips, giving Shovar a forced smile and an unenthusiastic thumbs up when the Klingon asked if he liked it.

 _This is exactly what I needed_ , Miral thought, leaning into Shovar's side after their dinner plates were cleared and desserts had been ordered. Joe's books and PADD had been moved to the side, forgotten. Mom had pushed her chair closer to Dad's and was laughing as he told an old story about Uncle Harry being propositioned by a newly de-Borgified Annika. It was everything she had pictured in her head when planning this trip.

"So, Shovar," Dad said, as the chuckling over Uncle Harry's lovelorn history wound down, "are there many other part-Klingons in your house?"

 _Oh no._  Miral tried to cringe as discreetly as possible at her father's question. She kept a wary eye on her mother over the rim of her wine glass.

"No, sir," Shovar said. Despite her parents repeatedly assuring her fiancé that he could use their first names, Shovar was still reluctant. "Miral will be the first. Has she not told you?"

B'Elanna's spine straightened at Shovar's response. "Miral is the first?" She turned her attention to her daughter. "Why haven't you told us this before?"

Miral blinked at her mother, her eyes wide. "Have I not mentioned that? I thought I did."

B'Elanna gave her a meaningful glare — the one that said  _Your father can't even fool me with that look, so if you think_ you  _can pull it off, you are dead wrong_  — before going back to Shovar. "But  _your_  family knows. That Miral is three-quarters human."

"I am sure they have assumed as much, sir—"

"B'Elanna. As I have said many times before, you can call me B'Elanna."

Miral looked to her father and brother for assistance. Dad was examining his hands with an absurd fascination given they were the same ones he'd had for the last sixty-four years, and Joe was now hiding behind the largest and most odiferous of the books he'd brought to dinner.

Shovar's eyes shifted towards Miral for a moment before he responded to her mother. "Of course, si— B'Elanna. As I was saying, they have seen images of Miral, so I'm sure they've assumed she's of mixed ancestry."

"Besides," Dad interjected, winking at Miral with a grin, "she's the  _kuvah'magh_. What Klingon house wouldn't want her?"

"You think this is a joke?" Mom snapped at her husband. "It's not. Many of the older houses are very resistant to introducing other species' genetics into their lines. My mother's almost lost their seat on the Council because of her marriage, and she was only a second daughter."

Miral noted Shovar's hand grip the stem of his glass in a fist. "I assure you, sir.  _B'Elanna_. And you, as well, Mister… Tom. Most houses on Qo'noS are far more open, culturally speaking, then they were in your mother's time."

"But how do you know  _your_  family is, if you haven't discussed it with them?" B'Elanna demanded, shaking off Dad's attempt at a calming hand. "I think it's only fair that Miral, and the rest of us, know what we're walking into here."

"There is no need for discussion!" Shovar insisted. "My parents are very open to new ways. They accepted my decision to attend Starfleet Medical despite being the eldest son. They encouraged my sister in her campaign to be named house successor. You do  _not_  know my family. We are amongst the most progressive houses on Qo'noS! Time and again they have broken with tradition — despite pressure from the Council and the other houses. I will not have them accused of bigotry!"

"Shovar," Dad said, giving Miral a disappointed frown even as he squeezed her knee in reassurance, "I'm sure that's not what B'Elanna meant. We were just surprised, that's all. And want to make sure your parents won't be, too."

Shovar released his glass and let out a long breath. "I promise you, my parents will be very welcoming of Miral and of all of you. I would not be bringing you to meet them otherwise. Please, don't be concerned."

B'Elanna kept eyeing him, but settled back into her seat. She nodded when Dad leaned over and whispered something in her ear with a quick squeeze of her hand. "You still should have told us, Miral."

 _Crisis averted_ , Miral thought as she nodded in agreement. "You're right, Mom. I'm sorry."

"Besides," Shovar added, starting to laugh. "Miral will not be the first non-Klingon to enter our line, even if it is the first formal arrangement. My great-uncle Utol was known for his proclivities for all sorts — humans, Betazoids, Andorians — before he settled down and had a proper marriage. There was an assortment of half-breeds produced."

Three of the four members of the Paris-Torres family stared at Shovar in varying shades of silence (Joe just slumped down lower behind his book). Mom's was livid, Dad's was more cold, but Miral's silence was simply because her brain was too busy screaming  _Why?_  over and over again for her to speak.

Dad found his voice first, though it was devoid of its usual warmth. "'Half-breed'?" he repeated through clenched teeth, "Do you have any idea how offensive that is?" Miral chewed her lip as she watched a vein in her father's neck begin to throb. "You owe my wife and children an apology."

As Miral glanced to her right, she saw Shovar's expression was one of befuddlement. "Offensive? Why? It's nothing more than an accurate description. They were half Klingon, half something else." Shovar smiled past Miral in her father's direction. "But even living amongst so many humans, I forget sometimes — how much words affect you. I meant no offense."

Miral's heart started to lift when she saw her father's shoulders drop. But she had forgotten about her mother.

"Well, I'm only half-human," B'Elanna growled, starting to stand. "And I'm offended, too."

Things devolved from there. Mom threw the opening volley by proclaiming Shovar's use of the term 'half-breed' was proof positive she was right to be concerned about his family's attitude towards part- and non-Klingons. Shovar, once again, defended his family's honor against Mom's accusations and resented that she was unwilling to accept his apology. Dad made an ill-fated attempt to diffuse the situation, suggesting that maybe dinner wasn't the best time to have this discussion: "Maybe we should table it for later," he'd said with a laugh at his own terrible pun. Mom, of course, took this to mean Dad wasn't taking her concerns seriously and, "How would you understand anyway? You've never been judged for who your parents are." That, predictably, went over like a ton of bricks, Dad clearly hurt at Mom's comments ("You really think after raising two part-Klingon children I don't have any understanding of what you're talking about?") and claiming that most of his childhood he'd been judged on nothing but who his parents were. At this point, Shovar stood, declaring he had no interest in being involved in their "trivial human bickering" and that if they were unable to take his word on his family's character, he suspected they'd never approved of his match with Miral in the first place.

Miral knew she should do something. She should make a joke to distract her father, or pull her mother aside so she could calm herself down, or stand up for Shovar so he wouldn't feel so cornered. Instead, she'd been sitting, nearly mute, for the duration of the clash — not even attempting to divert or calm the combatants. In fact, she'd been unable to communicate anything other than a silent ' _Now's not a good time_ ' to the concerned waiter that poked her head through the door, no doubt bearing the never-to-be-consumed plates of flan, semifreddo, and profiteroles. A part of her wondered at her reticence. She was her family's performer and peacemaker — the one that could always make her father laugh, could redirect her mother's anger, sometimes the only one that could get Joe to speak in more than monosyllables. In the 'Fleet, she was as known for her ability to talk her way out of situations as much as her tactical skills. But here, in this tiny dining room that felt increasingly cramped and loud with each passing moment, she found she had nothing to say.

Was it really so much to ask? For a quiet getaway with her fiancé? For a happy visit with her family? For the four people she loved most in the galaxy to come together and at least tolerate each other? She  _needed_  this. Well, definitely not the shouting and the anger, but she needed… something. Something so she could stop seeing Ana's body crushed under the bulkhead. Stop hearing the terror in her friend's voice when she'd whispered, "I can't feel anything, Miral."

"Just stop!" she snapped, her hand clamped over her ears, when Shovar made noises about canceling the meeting with his parents and Mom said that was fine by her. "Stop shouting at each other! What's the matter with you? Why can't you all just shut the hell up?"

They stopped. Mom and Shovar stared at her in silent concern, Dad reached out a hand and put it on her knee, his eyes worried. Even Joe peered out from behind his book, stunned.

She jumped up from the table, pushing her father's hand away and knocking her chair over with a clatter. "I'm sorry. I don't… I don't feel well."

Shovar took a step towards her. "Are you ill? I can get my tricorder."

"No!" she said, backing her way towards the exit. "Stop. No. I'm not  _sick,_  I just… need some air."

Shovar's eyebrows drew together. "We are in space."

Miral looked at her parents and fiancé each in turn, imagining their likely responses to her outburst. If Mom got her alone, she would start ranting about how she knew it was a mistake for Miral to get involved with a Klingon. Dad, on the other hand, would tell endless corny jokes, trying to cheer her up like she was an eight-year-old with a scraped knee. Shovar, perhaps rightly, would suggest she meet with a counselor given her uncharacteristic meltdown. But Miral didn't want any of that at the moment.

"Just leave me alone. Please," she said, before fleeing the room.

Ten minutes later, she lay buried under the three blankets and twelve pillows that festooned the bed. ("All Risian beds have thirteen pillows," the porter had told them. "It is considered an auspicious number." After the little man had left them with their bags, Shovar had counted the pillows and laughed when he'd come up one short. It didn't seem so funny now.) She wondered how much time she'd get before one or both of her parents, or perhaps Shovar, would come to find her. Maybe there was an empty cabin she could move to? Surely the ship's steward would be sympathetic if she explained she had a difficult family from which she needed to hide?

The doorbell chimed.  _Not much time at all_ , Miral thought with a sigh.

"I told you to leave me alone," she hollered through the bedding, hoping she could buy herself a few more minutes before the harassment and prying began.

"Me, too?" her brother's voice called back. "I thought maybe I got a pass for keeping my mouth shut."

She told the computer to let him in and the door slid open. Miral gave him a glower before letting her head retreat back inside her pillow fort. "Was that a conscious choice? I thought you were just hiding. As usual."

"It's not hiding," Joe said, picking several of the pillows off of her and tossing them on the floor. "It's strategic withdrawal from a volatile situation. Don't they teach you about that at the Academy?"

She regarded him with stony silence as he made himself a spot on the bed next to her, but the truth was: Joe was the only one she thought she could stand at the moment. He was just so… solid. He didn't rage against everything, like Mom did. He didn't feel the need to fill every silence like Dad. Maybe the two of them could just lay here for the next two weeks — eating from the replicator, watching old holovids, talking about stupid things they'd done as kids. She could give the hypothetical extra cabin to Shovar.

"I don't want to talk about it," she grumbled at him, while at the same time burying her face in his shoulder.

"Not everything is about you," Joe replied. "Maybe I want to talk about my life for a change."

Miral laughed in spite of herself. That would be the day. It was a long standing family joke that one day they'd wake up and discover Joe had won a Nobel Prize, or become married and divorced, or had fathered seven children, and he just hadn't thought to mention it to any of them. "Yeah, right."

Joe took one of the smaller remaining pillows and tossed it into the air. "Maybe I met someone."

Miral bolted upright, snatching the pillow from midair. Joe had never once in his twenty-five years mentioned anyone he'd dated, or even been attracted to. Miral had been starting to wonder if he was asexual and he just assumed they'd all figured it out by now. "What? Tell me! Who is she? Or he? Or they? I need details!"

"He," Joe said with a grin, "is named Aatto. It's only been a couple of weeks, so maybe it's not going to go anywhere, but… This one feels different, Miri." Joe rolled his eyes at Miral's questioning look. "Yes, Shrimp. Contrary to popular belief, I do date. I just don't like to advertise every tiny detail of my love life like  _some_ people."

"Shut up," Miral said. "We're not talking about me. We're never talking about me again. Tell me more about this mystery man."

"I met him one day while I was running along the Liffey. He's the only human I know that can actually keep up with me. He's Finnish, so he's tall and blond, and he has these gorgeous blue eyes. But he's smart, too, and goofy. He's so funny, Miri. He tells this story about—"

Miral put a hand out. She'd never heard her little brother talk this much about another person in his life, but she had to address something before he said another word. "Please tell me he's not a pilot."

"No," Joe replied, frowning. "He's a social worker and sometimes he lectures at Trinity. Why did you ask if he's a pilot?"

"Because it's starting to sound like you're dating Dad."

Joe stared at her, mouth agape, for a beat before he picked up one of the pillows and started thrashing Miral about the head and shoulders. "Take that back!"

They tousled for several minutes, pillows and blankets flying everywhere. But Joe really couldn't fight for shit, and Miral soon had him pinned face down on the floor, one arm locked behind him and the other pinned to the ground. "Say uncle!"

"Uncle," he choked out between his laughs.

Miral got off him and held her hand out to help him rise. They sat next to each other on the edge of the mattress and she rested her head on his shoulder. "Thanks, Turdbucket. I needed that."

"Thought you might. Kicking my ass has always cheered you up."

"Oh, Jojo, I wish it was still that simple." She buried her face in her hands. "God. Do they all think I've lost my mind?"

"Not in a permanent sense," her brother said. "But they may be worried it's been temporarily misplaced. On the bright side, it stopped their fighting." He nudged her with his elbow. "Do you want to talk about it? What's brought on all this uncharacteristic angst?"

Miral flopped back onto the bed. "No," she said, thinking again of Ana's terrified face.

"That's not you, Miral," Joe said as he lowered himself to join her. "That's me. And it doesn't always work that well. You can't keep it bottled up like this. But you don't have to talk to me, unless you want to. I've never been in your position, so I don't really know what it feels like — to feel responsible for someone else getting hurt."

Miral looked at him. "How did you know?"

"The look on your face when Shovar came to dinner and you asked him if the surgery went ok," Joe replied. "It wasn't the look of someone who was just worried about their friend."

"I thought you were getting your degree in history, not psychology," she said, picking up a pillow and hugging it to her chest. "It's weird, in a way. I don't totally understand it. It's not like I haven't had people under my command get hurt before, or even killed."

"But?"

"But," she said with shaky breath. "But I've never had to look someone in the eye and be one hundred percent sure that what I was about to do was going to get them hurt, or worse. I've never had to sacrifice someone —  _my friend_  — to save a hundred people I've never even met. Everyone keeps telling me — Shovar, my captain, my XO — that I did the right thing. But it sure as hell doesn't feel right."

Joe just held Miral for a while, his arms wrapped tightly around her, neither of them making a sound. After what might have been five minutes or twenty, he said quietly. "I'm sorry."

"Thanks."

"You know," Joe said, easing back up to sitting and taking her with him. "There's a couple of people I know that used to be in Starfleet. They were stuck in a pretty bad situation for years and I'm pretty sure they had to make a whole lot of tough decisions. Ones where nothing felt right, ones where people got hurt or died because of what they did."

"Oh yeah?" said Miral, picking a piece of lint off her pants. She knew her brother was just trying to help, but that's the last thing she wanted — having to open up to a couple of strangers.

"Yeah," Joe said, bumping shoulders with her. "They also happen to love you a lot."

Miral sighed at her obliviousness. "Oh. Right. I guess if nothing else I should apologize to them for losing my shit."

"Talk to Mom and Dad, Miri," Joe said. "They're worried, and they love you, and they'll understand how you're feeling right now a lot better than anyone else. If nothing else, it'll make them forget about their work fight. Nothing brings them together like a common enemy."

"As long as it's not Shovar," Miral said, feeling a smile start to form. "But I guess you're right. I should really—"

Thud.

"What was that?"

Joe crawled across the bed and pressed his ear to the wall. "Is Mom and Dad's cabin next to yours?"

"Yeah, why?"

He made a face. "I guess they aren't that worried about you, after all. Or maybe they just needed a distraction?"

Miral joined her brother at the wall to listen. "Oh my God, Joe! Gross! They're in their sixties!"

Joe grinned. "You said you wanted them to get along better."

/=\

"Are you ever going to let this go?"

They were back on Starbase Twelve, and Mom was scowling as they prepared to board their ship back to Earth.

"No way!" Dad declared, giving Miral a wink. "The way you stood up to that old  _petaQ_ — telling him I had more Klingon spirit in my little finger than he had in his whole body. I've never felt so loved."

Mom rolled her eyes, but Miral saw the smile she tried to hide by ducking her chin. "It helps when you have your two-meters-tall future son-in-law backing you up."

"It was my honor, si— " Shovar cleared his throat. "B'Elanna."

Miral hugged her parents goodbye. "We're going to miss you, kitten," Dad said, his voice thick. "I love you a bunch, OK?"

"I love you, too, Daddy," Miral said with misty eyes as she kissed his cheek.

"Call us if you need anything," Mom murmured as they embraced. "Day or night. Even if it's just to talk."

"Thanks, Mom," Miral said. "See you in a few months."

Shovar looked around the departure lounge after Tom and B'Elanna had moved out of sight. "Where is your brother? He's going to miss the ship."

Miral glanced at the chronometer. "He's got six more minutes, which means he should show up about five minutes and fifty-five seconds from now."

"Ha!" Joe's voice said from behind her. "Shows how much  _you_  know."

Shovar and Joe had a quick farewell embrace, but Miral hugged her brother fiercely, letting her tears be absorbed into his shirt. "Don't be a stranger, OK? Maybe you can stop being such a boring old poop and meet me at a starbase or something sometime. Bring that man you keep talking about."

"We'll see," Joe said, grinning as he pulled out of her arms. "I'm not totally sure I want you to meet him. One 'Turdbucket,' and you'll ruin the suave, accomplished facade I've been so carefully curating." He kissed the top of her head, and hugged her again. "I love you, Shrimp. Don't forget that."

"Not a chance, Turdbucket. I love you, too."

Miral stood at the lounge's viewport, Shovar's arm around her shoulders, as the ship finished boarding and prepped for departure. She knew it was silly — that even if they were looking in the right direction, it wasn't possible for her family to see her — but Miral waved anyway as the cruiser moved away from the docking port and blinked out of sight, whisking her parents and brother back to Earth.

**The End**

**Author's Note:**

> Coming next week! The Hard Way Down


End file.
